


lean on me

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 6+1 times, Airplanes, Brief Kane mention, Canon Compliant, M/M, Road Trips, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I get the pleasure of the captain's presence?" Brent smirks, looking up at him.</p><p>Johnny snorts, throwing his bag up in the bin, before kicking at Brent's ankle so his legs close and Johnny can sit.</p><p>"Why mess with a good thing?"</p><p>(Or, six times Johnny falls asleep on Brent during road trips and one time Brent falls asleep on him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lean on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alotofthingsdifferent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a 5+1 times thing. But I completely miscounted. So. 
> 
> For amandaj, whom I adore. Beta by the wonderful ferritin4.

I. _September 2007_

"Is it cool if I sit here?"

Brent looks up, raising one eyebrow and shifting over a little in his seat. "Of course, kid." 

It's their first road game of pre-season. Johnny’s looking at Brent like he really expected a 'no', and okay, he knows rookie hazing is kind of a thing, but the kid looks ready for a fight. Which is ridiculous, they _live_ together. 

"Stop looking like you just asked to blow me." 

Johnny flushes and throws his bag in the overhead bin before sitting down in a huff. "Shut up. Wiz was giving me shit." 

Brent frowns. He knows there was a bit of a tussle between them during the scrimmage at training camp the other day. Hell, Duncs said the kid practically bit his head off. "’Bout what?" 

"Where I was gonna sit. Sharpy already claimed Kaner, and he said Duncs usually sat with you." 

Brent shrugs and doesn't divulge to Johnny that he'd already told Duncs he was probably gonna hang with the kid for a bit, just to get him acclimated. Duncs had just shaken his head and called him a mother hen. 

"S'cool. I like to sleep, okay? So don't bother me." 

Johnny snorts. "You should already know how much I like to sleep, man." 

That's for sure. Brent has already become Johnny's own personal alarm clock, considering he sleeps through _everything._

"We'll get along just fine, then," Brent grins at him, ignoring the stupid flip in his stomach when Johnny grins crookedly back, something like relief in his eyes, even though they haven't had any problems yet. 

Brent wakes up halfway through the flight to Johnny's head on his shoulder and drool on his t-shirt. 

"Ugh," Brent says.

And then a flash goes off.

"Sharpy, I swear to fuckin' god," Brent shouts, jostling Johnny from his resting place.

"Huh?" Johnny says groggily, rubbing at his eyes.

The whole team laughs around them, Johnny glowers, and Brent just tries not to think about how Johnny's head had actually felt nice on his shoulder. 

He could've done without the drool, though. 

____________________________

II. _September 2008_

Brent doesn't really expect Johnny to come sit beside him on their first road trip of the season. They no longer live together, Johnny's captain now, and Brent knows he feels a lot more adjusted in general. It's not like they had to keep up with tradition or something, and people switched up seats a hell of a lot. But Johnny does. Coincidently, their first stop is Columbus, just like like year. Brent’s feeling a bit of deja vu when Johnny stops beside his aisle, backpack in tow. 

"I get the pleasure of the captain's presence?" Brent smirks, looking up at him.

Johnny snorts, throwing his bag up in the bin, before kicking at Brent's ankle so his legs close and Johnny can sit.

"Why mess with a good thing?"

"I think Duncs was looking forward to having me back," Brent teases.

"Seabsie, you two are married enough already, you could use the breather."

Brent laughs and tussles Johnny's hair. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he really missed the kid this summer.

Johnny's head falls on his shoulder halfway to Columbus. 

Brent smirks down at him, before his breath catches in his throat as he looks at Johnny's face. The curve of his cheekbones, his long eyelashes that flutter ever so slightly as he probably dreams of scoring goals and winning the cup. Brent's not sure he's ever met someone so determined in his entire life. He'd dubbed Johnny Mr. Serious last spring, revising it to Captain Serious after the convention, but it wasn't exactly a completely fair title. It's more that Johnny's just… focused on one goal, one job. 

Why Brent is mixing these thoughts with ones of kissing his newly appointed captain's perfect bow lips is anyone's guess.

He doesn't wake Johnny up, and resists the urge to touch his hair again, knowing it would be less of a tousle and more of a caress. He's really gotta get this shit in check.

_____________________

III. _December 2008_

"I'm just… I'm still barely fucking scoring, man. And I'm the captain and everyone's looking at me with these… expectations, now more than ever," Johnny says in a rushed whisper from their spot on the back of the bus. They’re heading back to the hotel after a late game in Edmonton and most of the other guys are sleeping or listening to music. 

"You don't have to score to lead," Brent says firmly. "And you are leading, kid. But you gotta fuckin' believe that more, okay?" 

Bur came up to him the other night, told him he found Johnny sitting in his stall, saying he didn't deserve to go out with the rest of the team, not with the way he was playing. Brent's first thought had been "why are you telling _me_?" His second wasn’t a thought, but a kind of aching in his chest. 

Johnny is... a great kid, truly, but he winds himself way too tight sometimes. Brent wishes he could enjoy being with the guys more right now, rather than weighing himself down with his own thoughts of possible failure and disgrace to the organization. 

He scoffs to himself at the thought. As if Johnny could make anything worse than things have been for the Hawks the past few years. No, he could only make it better. And he needed to believe that. 

He puts his arm around Johnny's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "Hey kid," he whispers, mouth close to his ear. "Believe me when I say you're gonna fucking go down as one of the greats, okay? And we're all behind you."

Johnny scoffs but it actually sounds a little watery. Oh, jesus. 

He's never seen the kid cry and he doesn't want to now. He wasn't sure that was even in Johnny's make-up, unlike Kaner, who cries at the drop of the hat, most notably after Saavy. Kid took that shit hard. 

"But who the fuck am I to lead, huh? So many of you guys are older than me and here I am, trying to take charge. It's not like the captain jobs I've had in the past, man, it's not." 

Brent hums, letting his fingers dance along the arc of Johnny's shoulder. "Then stop looking at it that way. You've got Duncs and Sharpy as your A's, okay? Lean on them, use them more in the room." Brent pauses, swallowing hard, wondering if what he's about to say is something he's even ready for. Before he decides, fuck it. "And you've got me, too, for that."

Johnny turns to face him, shifting in his seat so it's not like they're about to kiss or something. Seabs doesn't know if he's happy or disappointed for that. 

"Yeah?" Johnny whispers, eyes clearing, the tears completely unshed. 

"Yeah," Brent whispers back, squeezing his shoulder once more. "Now go to sleep."

Johnny does. Brent doesn't move his arm, the two of them tangled up in each other like some couple on a trip or something. Johnny falls asleep on his shoulder, because of course he does. 

This time, Brent lets himself stroke his hair, just once. Johnny mumbles sleepily into the touch. 

____________________________

IV. _September 2009_

Brent's looking forward to playing in Switzerland and Finland. It's a nice shift to start the season. It's also the longest plane ride he's ever been on with Johnny. They sit towards the back for the flight there. Sharpy's filming shit for Blackhawks TV, so he's been all up in their faces already, Johnny grinning at him, asking, "What do you want", looking far too adorable for his own good while being ridiculous and reading French magazines.

"My mom sends them to me," he shrugs when Brent asks. "They're like, travel shit. I'd like to go to Paris one day."

Brent can picture him there, being all touristy and earnest. 

The flight into Zurich is long, but it’s also the red-eye. Brent falls asleep and wakes up to Johnny's face mashed against his neck. Of course. He looks around, certain he’ll find Sharpy with the camera trained on his face, but the rest of the plane is silent around them. He lets himself look at Johnny, at how much he's really grown into his features over the past few years. He's gorgeous. 

Sometimes Brent literally aches from want. 

Johnny snuffles against him, head raising, and before Brent can look away their eyes are locked on each other in the dim of the cabin. 

Johnny's lips part a little, his eyes dark. He looks at Brent the way he looks on the ice. Like he's visualizing the thing he wants the most and how to get it.

Brent swallows hard.

"Jon --" Brent starts, the words a whisper, but that's as far as he gets.

Johnny's lips touch his almost delicately, just the barest hint of pressure. The kiss is soft, almost sweet, and absolutely nothing like the way it happens in Brent's fantasies.

Their mouths move together slowly, a gentle glide with only a tease of tongue before it’s over, Johnny moving back and looking around them with slightly wide eyes.

No one’s awake. 

He turns back to Brent, smiling a little smugly.

Dear god.

"To be continued, yeah?"

Brent swallows again, throat working.

"Yeah," he whispers.

Johnny settles back down, and this time when he rests his head on Brent's shoulder, Brent knows it’s deliberate.  
_________________________________

The trip is pretty gruelling, but it's also almost like a vacation. And, well, he and Johnny hang out a lot together. So that’s been -- nice. They’re pretty much inseparable and they're absolutely getting a lot of shit from the other guys.

The only times they’ve actually had alone together have been a few stolen makeouts in the hotel bathroom, so to Brent it's like being teenagers on a family vacation: 24/7 supervision, curfews, and an insane amount of sexual tension.

Johnny lifts Sharpy's camera from him, turning the tables, particularly when he’s showing Seabs stuff for the wedding on his phone, the two of them huddled close on the couch in the lounge.

"D’awww," Johnny coos from behind the lens. "Look into his eyes again."

"I'll look into _your_ eyes again," Brent growls later, as he and Johnny are boarding the elevator to their floor. He's so crazed with lust he has no idea what he's even saying anymore.

Johnny laughs, looking at Brent over his shoulder. "I just bet you will."

___________________

V. _February 2010_

"Fuck, this is insane," Brent groans, even as his hand snakes inside Johnny's boxers, having already tugged open his fly as they were kissing, panting into each others mouths.

"It's not like everyone doesn't know,” Johnny gasps, pushing his cock into Brent's fist. "We've been fucking like crazy these past two weeks."

"Everyone fucks in the Olympic Village,” Brent counters, voice a harsh whisper. "No one pays attention."

"So this isn't any different,” Johnny grits out, his hand undoing Brent's jeans, and tugging his dick out as well.

"We're on the goddamn plane!"

Brent has never joined the mile high club in his life, and he certainly didn’t expect to now. Yet he followed Johnny inside the bathroom like he wasn’t in control of his own body. 

"I know," Johnny says, eyes a little crazed. They're both half drunk and half high off adrenaline. "Now shut up and kiss me, baby, we just won gold."

Well. Brent can't argue with that. 

Johnny falls asleep on his shoulder the moment try get back to their seats. Orgasms knock him the fuck out. 

Duncs gives him a thumbs up from across the aisle. Brent loves his D partner almost as much as he loves his captain.

Almost.  
_________________________

VI. _May 2013_

Things aren't perfect. Things can't be perfect when you're two high profile NHL stars in a same-sex relationship. They fight about who does and doesn't know, who should and shouldn't know. They fight about how much time they spend together and how much time they spend apart. But at the end of the day, they know this is what they want as much as they want to keep winning Cups together. 

The highs are really high and the lows can be really low. Some of those lows consisted of two first round exits, Johnny suffering yet another concussion, and a lockout. And the highs were absolutely winning gold and the cup in one year, their first vacation together as a couple (to Paris, naturally), the fact that they’re basically living together and only keeping separate places for appearances, and the entire time, striving for better each and every year.

Johnny's pretty much as confident and self assured as he can be now, no longer that kid looking up at Brent with big eyes filled with fear, questioning whether he can lead or even if he should be. Watching Johnny grow into the man he's become, seeing him take that maturity he’s had instilled in him at a young age and make himself even more rounded -- completely well-adjusted and comfortable in his own skin --- has been a thing to experience. 

The media still harps on the Captain Serious thing and Johnny always tells Brent he’ll never forgive him for that (Brent is absolutely positive he's only half kidding), but the fact of the matter is it's pretty much a fallacy now, and everyone who matters knows that. Johnny's just as intense as ever, but he's also dry, witty, and… well, a hell of a human being. Brent kept up his end of the bargain, too, became a ton more vocal in the room since their discussion that December after Johnny was made captain. Perhaps it’s to the point where he talks _too_ much sometimes, but no one’s really complained since, and he knows how much Johnny appreciates it. Brent’s embraced the role, honestly. He wouldn’t know how to go back to anything else. 

Yet Johnny’s still the team’s rock, this is still his ship to man. So when the series vs. Detroit rolls around, Brent isn't exactly prepared to see Johnny completely unravel before his very eyes. 

Maybe Brent's thinking more like a boyfriend than a teammate when he skates over to the box before the next shift. He has no damn clue, operating on automatic as he goes. 

He thumps Johnny on the helmet, leaving his hand there, leaning in close. 

"Calm the fuck down, Cap. You're gonna sit here for another two minutes, you're gonna breathe, and then you're gonna get back out there because your boys need you, eh? We may be down but were not fucking out, Johnny. Not yet." 

"Seabs," Johnny grits out, and Brent can _hear_ his teeth grinding. And he knows what Johnny’s thinking, knows he's blaming himself.

He thumps him on the helmet again. "Just fucking listen to me for once, okay? You've got this. We've got this." He hits him on the head again and then skates away. 

Later that night, after Johnny’s faced the media and they’re on the flight back to Chicago, the mood a bit somber around them, Johnny finally mentions it. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly. 

“Yes, I did,” Brent replies simply. 

Johnny’s hand worms into his on, their fingers locking together. “I love you,” he replies, and Brent knows he also means _thank you_. 

Brent drags his fingers through Johnny’s hair that night when he falls asleep on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple, thinking about how he used to think he couldn’t do those very things. 

They’re gonna win this thing. Johnny and him, together. They’re gonna do it. 

Brent would bet on it. 

_______________________________  
+1 _January 2015_

The All-Star weekend is a whirlwind. Brent’s been in All-star games before, but never on the pro level. Nothing of this magnitude. It’s a bit like being in the Cup final; the cameras increase, reporters are everywhere, and everyone wants to get a soundbite. Brent knows he was voted in, and he’s not dumb. He’s pretty fucking sure he wouldn’t have been chosen otherwise. He never had been in the past, so he isn’t sure what would change now. He knows he’s important to the team, knows he’s a well-known name in hockey, but he doesn’t fool himself to think he absolutely belongs here. 

It’s that knowledge that has him more jumpy than maybe he would’ve been otherwise. Johnny, of course, picks up on that. 

“Can we go together?” he asks the media when Brent has to go up for a photo call. 

Johnny’s arm around his shoulder is like an anchor. 

When they fuck in Brent’s hotel bed that night, it’s intense and heated, Johnny covering his body, pressing Brent into the mattress, their hands linked and Johnny’s breath hot on his neck as he fucks inside slowly, ever so slow. 

“You belong here,” Johnny whispers, kissing behind his ear. “You belong where I am.” 

When said like that, Johnny’s words fervent as his hips snap against Brent’s ass, their fingers tightly intertwined, Brent can’t exactly believe anything else. 

__________________________

On the flight back to Chicago, Brent’s drowsing while Johnny reads and listens to music. He must fall asleep because when he wakes up, his head is on Johnny’s solid shoulder, his nose pressed against his crisp white shirt that Brent wants to slowly peel him out of. 

Johnny chuckles, turning his face to rub his cheek against Brent’s hair. “I think that’s the first time this has happened. How the tables have turned.” His voice is as dumb and dry as ever and Brent closes his eyes again, just breathing Johnny in. 

“Maybe I’ll make a habit of it,” Brent murmurs.

“Mmm, maybe you should,” Johnny says, kissing his temple. 

Brent can live with that. 

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> Things to accompany this story, if you care about that shit. In order of reference:
> 
> 1\. [bb!tazer being pushed around](http://andrew-shaws.tumblr.com/post/52633477742/seabsie-rookie-jonathan-toews-getting-pushed)  
> 2\. [Article](https://web.archive.org/web/20120102202908/http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1161603/index.htm) referencing Tazer's difficult first few months as captain  
> 3\. Sharpy's filming during the overseas trip (relevant parts start around 2:10 [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eOh3dQnMDI) and some in [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95cldi_vFWM)  
> 4\. [Support in the Sin Bin](http://darthtulip.tumblr.com/post/51364431711/brent-seabrook-comforting-jonathan-toews-after-his)  
> 5\. [A tandem (their words, not mine)](http://monalisasnmadhatters.tumblr.com/post/109049128559/x-a-tandem). 
> 
> Yes, they do always sit together. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
